A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts

The conversation in the headmaster's office continued.

Dumbledore paused, turning to Snape. "Voldemort is controlling his temper, he still needs you. I knew that ever since I found Umbridge's mind messed with... There's a saying, 'Those who ask for favor must act humbly.' Obviously, Voldemort isn't exempt from this."

"I'm not interested in hearing clichés," Snape replied.

"Oh, Severus, these profound sayings provoke deep thoughts, worth pondering... You know, I've been trying to make you fall in love with life again," Dumbledore said kindly.

Snape shook his head abruptly, as if something dirty had touched him.

"Since Voldemort wants you to poison me while you heal me, he'll wait a while longer. Perhaps he'll decide the duel based on my physical condition?" Dumbledore pondered. "This way, I can influence his judgment. Just need a few interviews at the right time, take a few photos looking pale... Ah, I've thought of it. The Wizengamot... I need to talk to Madam Bones."

"Severus, your role is crucial. Even if Voldemort suspects you, as long as you're useful, he won't act rashly. Except for Umbridge, there's another vulnerability: Harry. Thankfully, he's skilled in Occlumency, and Voldemort seems to have willingly severed their connection, but never be complacent," he warned.

"Speaking of Potter," Snape interjected suddenly, "Dumbledore, you deceived me. Harry Potter... he's one of them, a Horcrux."

Silence ensued.

"Is this true?" Snape's voice was low, he stood up, staring across the table at Dumbledore, "I've spied for you, concocted lies for you, risked my life. All supposedly to ensure Lily's son's safety. Now you tell me, his fate was sealed from the start? Like a pig for slaughter—"

"How touching, Severus," Dumbledore said, "Are you really starting to like that boy?"

"Like him?" Snape exclaimed, "He's—"

He raised his wand, conjuring a silver doe. It landed gently at the other end of the office, flew out the window. Dumbledore watched it disappear into the distance, then turned to Snape, tears in his eyes.

"After all this time?" he asked softly.

"Always," Snape replied.

Dumbledore sighed, closed his eyes. The room filled only with Snape's labored breath. "You deceived me, Dumbledore," he repeated after a while. Eventually, Dumbledore opened his eyes, the calm gaze fixed on Snape above the half-moon spectacles.

"I won't justify myself, Severus. But I prepared for the worst—when the time came, that boy had to die once, so I nurtured him, honed him, observed him, like a craftsman perfecting his creation."

"Died once?" Snape lifted his head, "Dumbledore, explain."

"The night Voldemort tried to kill Harry, the Killing Curse rebounded, a fragment of his soul latched onto the only living soul in the collapsing house, Harry Potter..."

"A part of the Dark Lord lives within that child? Became a Horcrux?" Snape urgently asked, "So his Parseltongue, the link to Voldemort's thoughts, all because of the soul fragment?"

Dumbledore nodded slightly. Snape's understanding of Horcruxes remained basic; he hadn't delved into their intricacies. Combining various intelligence, he accidentally uncovered the truth.

At present, he listened attentively.

"True Horcrux creation is exceedingly complex, beyond imagination. Perhaps that's why Voldemort hasn't linked Harry to the Horcrux yet—Harry's incompleteness even compared to the snake. But he still serves as a Horcrux: as long as that fragment remains within Harry, Voldemort won't truly die."

"Can the fragment be separated?" Snape racked his brains, "It was unintentional, right? Like a stain on a wall, find a way to remove it—” He held his breath, gazing at the old man, "Have you found one?"

Dumbledore shook his head slowly.

Snape's body swayed, hands bracing on the table, eyes hollow as he stared at Dumbledore.

"Any matter concerning the soul requires extreme caution," Dumbledore murmured, "We can't rely on ancient texts, must rely on ourselves. Harry's situation is more perilous: Voldemort's soul fragment stuck onto him without any preparation. Over the years, their connection might have grown stronger, like a parasitic life."

"You must have heard about Harry's exaggerated progress this year?" he asked.

Snape stared expressionlessly at Dumbledore, who returned the gaze.

"I thought—it was the result of his diligent training."

"I don't deny that. But—apart from the disparity in knowledge and experience, Harry isn't much weaker than you now. This is abnormal, Severus."

"No other way?"

"Felix and I—we're both seeking solutions. He found a direction in books on Horcruxes: remorse can reunite a split soul. Felix's achievements in Memory Magic are astonishing," Dumbledore said, "He wants to capture Voldemort, immerse him in a jar filled with 'remorse' emotions, for a day, two days, perhaps a year or two."

Snape was shocked by Felix's audacious idea.

"...But I don't hold much hope for this method. The conditions are too stringent: first, you must catch a live Voldemort—compared to the other steps, this is perhaps the easiest. Then, you have to make Voldemort genuinely remorseful. Frankly, I don't think there's an ounce of regret in him. Even if he suddenly showed remorse, I wouldn't be surprised... Besides, even if Voldemort is forced to repent, what impact does removing the soul shard have on Harry?"

"No one knows."

Snape stood rooted to the spot.

After a while, he asked, struggling, "You only mentioned Felix's efforts, what about you? What have you done?"

"Oh, I can't disclose that to you yet," Dumbledore apologized, "That method might be more ephemeral than inducing genuine remorse in Voldemort... and I can't verify it at the moment. Sharing it would only cause more distress."

He placed the black gemstone ring in the drawer, fiddled with the exquisite silverware on the table. The conversation seemed to end there; Snape stood, heading for the door. "Oh, by the way, Severus?" Snape turned, meeting the blue eyes beneath the half-moon spectacles.

"Add some more sugar to the potion, would you?"

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